


Lifted

by cloudycelebrations



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Amnesia, Banned Together Bingo 2020, Banned Together Bingo Fill: Supports Crime, Blanket Permission, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes as the Asset, Happy Ending, Internalized Dehumanization, Kleptomania, M/M, No Sex, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Solo recovery, Things Will Be Okay, be gay do crimes, no on-screen pain or torture, passing mention of masturbation, standard Winter Soldier trauma umbrella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudycelebrations/pseuds/cloudycelebrations
Summary: When the Asset escapes from Hydra’s cold, dark cell, it steals.A lot.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71
Collections: Banned Banned Together Bingo 2020, Banned Together Bingo 2020





	Lifted

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to ZepysGirl and ladivvinatravestia for beta! Written for Banned Together Bingo 2020: Supports Crime.

When the Asset escapes from Hydra’s cold, dark cell, it steals. 

A lot. 

At first it’s just after food and clothing, the basic necessities of survival, then soap and shampoo once it perceives the importance of hygiene. It does not remember how to buy things, nor does it have any money. But it knows how to take. It monitors dozens of empty investment homes owned and ignored by the wealthy and establishes itself in one as though it belongs there. It steals effortlessly, whatever it can find. Decorative plants, expensive cookware, marbled steaks, and comfortable bedding. It sees no reason to stop. 

The world looks like a bland series of transactions and its body is no longer the price. The Asset always appears exhausted, but it can mimic human interaction flawlessly: a confident smirk, a friendly nod, a studious glance at price tags, as though it mattered at all. It does not rest or sleep; it does not remember how. 

It does not steal weapons.

The Asset has no urge for violence, and no cages, no orders, no masters. It has a drive to survive and regular, pounding headaches. It steals from restaurants, public bathrooms, specialty shops, distracted businessmen on the street, and large department stores. It hides in plain sight, whiteness and maleness encasing a machine like a blanket of immunity, disguising behind its eyes the horrors no one else can see. Everyone looks right past it. It looks past everyone. Camping gear, paper towels, sunglasses, smartphones, bank account information. It hacks into Hydra accounts and steals every penny from every agent it can identify. Yet the impulse to take things, instead of lives, does not slow down. 

It does not notice the passing of time, ignores the difference between day and night. Its mind is both blank and buzzing non-stop with silent, intuitive strategies. It moves on autopilot. Each choice is already pre-programmed and unquestioned by the time it takes an action. Small talk, calm and purposeful steps, looking both ways before it crosses the parking lot. It looks exactly like a human being. 

It cannot feel. It cannot stop to consider anything beyond the present moment. Yet it knows somehow that these items will come in handy, and its gloved hands are able to carry them off. It surrounds itself with objects. It hides in and out of sight, and always waits for the perfect opportunity to walk away. 

The Asset can leave whenever it wants. It can remember the previous day, and the day before that. It can go outside, or inside, speak without being spoken to, scream into the vacancy of its luxurious squatter home without any punishment forthcoming. It can sit among its stolen objects, touch them, and use them like it has been used. But it does not keep the objects in their boxes to fester hidden in the dark. 

It can touch itself, and finally it feels something. 

It possesses heightened senses, possesses a body, and one day, it possesses a memory. The Asset squirrels away this memory with all the other objects in its home. It once knew a man, who did not call it the Asset or send it to kill. That’s it. But it’s enough.

The Asset devises a plan to steal this man. 

It thinks before its feet hit the pavement. It envisions beyond the next minute. It senses the passing of hours and days, imagines tomorrow, remembers yesterday. It researches who this man could have been. It notes the days turn into nights from its facsimile of a home. 

It takes a long rest. 

It tracks the man to a university’s public event, watches the panel discussion from a dimly lit back row to make sure. It listens and records the voice, feels thick, heavy memories slide into its mind unbidden. It, he, really was a person once, and this man really was involved somehow. 

The event ends. People filter away. The Asset slips out the back door, lurks in the side hallway, and at exactly the perfect moment, strides forward and corners the man alone in the green room. 

Suddenly, he can’t speak, his throat won’t work. The man gapes at him in shock. He grabs the man’s shoulders and hauls him against a wall, sees the man tense all over and avoids looking into his wide, stunned eyes. Whatever expression is on his own face, it’s clearly too much. Too human, or not enough? He has to take this man and get out of here. 

“Bucky, oh my god, what are you doing? What’s going on?” 

He chokes out, “You’re coming with me.” He drags the man with him and checks the exits, makes him duck to avoid any cameras. He can smell fear on both of their bodies. 

“Wait, wait, slow down! You don’t have to do this!”

His mind whirls and his body drowns in adrenaline. He does have to do this. The memories are clogging up his head. He needs this man. Is it written on his face? Is it clear to the entire world that he needs this man? He needs to steal him away. Did he just say that out loud? 

Huge hands grab his own shoulders and hold him still. He feels, here in his body and the reflection in his memories. It’s too much. He hears the familiar voice. He stops. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Bucky, I’m already yours.”


End file.
